


Happy Birthday, Sunflower

by stanuris



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Stanlon - Freeform, basically stan gets emo and then he gets gayer, here u go!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 09:36:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13292082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stanuris/pseuds/stanuris
Summary: The Losers accidentally forgetting Stan's birthday with a bit of Stanlon please  -anonymousi really love the idea of mike using cute petnames for his s/o... i love it.





	Happy Birthday, Sunflower

Stanley Uris’s sixteenth birthday was not, at all, going according to plan. He wanted to sit and have pancakes with his mother before school, see his friends, maybe get a “happy birthday, Stanny boy!” from Richie, a gift from the losers, some high fives, and be on his merry way like any other day. Instead, when he was finally dressed and downstairs, he saw a sloppily-scrawled note lying on the counter.  
  
_Morning Stanley- I had to pick up an extra shift, so I’ll be gone by the time you wake up. There’s cereal in the pantry, have that for breakfast. See you tonight. -Mom_  
  
For some reason that Stan couldn’t quite wrap his head around, he felt like curling up and crying. No card, no “happy birthday” written at the end of the note his mother had left him, no pancakes, no company. Nothing. For the first time that day, Stanley felt invisible.

He poured himself a bowl of cereal, and didn’t bother to sit at the table to eat. He slid his shoes on, and made his way to school.

When he finally caught sight of his friends gathered around the front doors to their school, Stan could’ve cried of relief. Richie was the first to catch sight of Stan, giving him a wave and a toothy smile. Stan all but ran over to him, a soft smile on his lips.

“Well _hullo_ there, Sir Uris!” Richie grinned at him, obviously proud of this Voice. “What brings you to this _wonderful_ establishment, good sire?” Stan rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help but smile at his friend. He tried to tune into the conversation going on around him, but found his mind wandering to an upcoming test instead. It wasn’t until the warning bell had rung that Stan realized that none of his friends had wished him a happy birthday yet. He shrugged it off, figuring that they’d do something ridiculous to surprise him later. Maybe Mike would show up- what Stan wouldn’t give to see his boyfriend before school got out… But, by the time he was in his desk during his first period, nobody had even wished him a happy birthday once, he realized that he had forgotten his bird book on his dresser, and he couldn’t help but be in a sour mood. For the second time that day, Stanley felt invisible.

Throughout the day, Stan kept expecting for something to change. For someone to yell “SURPRISE!” and tell him how much they love him. For someone to even clap him on the shoulder and tell him to have a good day. For _someone_ to make him feel… Special.

Even at lunch, Stan sat a bit away from the rest of his friends, picking angrily at his cafeteria food. The rest of the losers didn’t notice at first, not really, and just listened to Eddie talk about an annoying kid who sat next to him in his math class.

“Wait… I sat next to you in math today!” Richie frowned, disgruntled, and Stan could hear his friends laughing. He couldn’t bring himself to care, though- he just sat there, repeatedly stabbing his fork into a piece of wilted lettuce. Stan was angry. He was angry that his parents didn’t say anything, he was angry that nothing at school had been going his way, he was angry that his friends seemed to have forgotten his birthday. Feeling the anger bubble up in his stomach, Stan abruptly stood up, hands shaking slightly, and left the cafeteria without a word.

For the third time that day, Stanley felt invisible. He messed up at least three problems on his calculus test, even though he knew the material. He accidentally called someone the wrong name in the hall, and he forgot his notebook in one of his classes and had to do the walk of shame to go get it after his next period had started. And still, not one singular person had wished him a happy sixteenth birthday.

After the last bell, Stanley had no intentions of waiting around for his friends. He stormed out of the school, his hands jammed into his pockets and a scowl on his face, to see Ben, Beverly, Bill, Eddie, and Richie all in a circle on the steps of the school. He did his best to go past them, wanting nothing more than to curl up in his bed and feel sorry for himself, when he heard Richie call after him.

“What’s got your panties in a twist, Uris? You still mad about last night with your mother? Probably kept you up all night, didn-” Richie’s teasing was cut off by Stan whirling around on his heel, glaring at Richie with unusual intensity.

“Shut the fuck up, Trashmouth. Maybe I’m just fucking pissed at you.” Stan’s hands balled into fists at his sides.

“What’s wrong, Stan?” Beverly’s voice was soothing, and she took a step towards Stan, obviously trying to offer comfort. But, Stan could just feel himself getting angrier.

“Maybe what’s _wrong_ is that my not even my best fucking friends remembered my sixteenth goddamn birthday. Maybe what’s _wrong_ is that even though my parents don’t care, which wasn’t a surprise, _you_ don’t seem to either.” Stan’s voice lacked much emotion, but he could feel tears brimming up in his eyes.

Before giving his friends an opportunity to say anything, he turned on his heel and walked away. Soon enough, he was running, angrily wiping tears off his cheeks. He had slowed down to walking, but still couldn’t help how lonely he felt. For the fourth time that day, Stanley felt invisible.

Stan was so caught up on being mad at his friends that he almost missed the letter on his doorstep. Neat, flowing cursive letters spelled out his name on a pristine white envelope, and when Stan picked it up, he realized that it smelled faintly floral.

“Hey there, Sunflower.” Stan felt arms wrap around his waist, and couldn’t help but laugh softly when he felt someone nuzzling against his neck.

“Hi, Mike.” Stan sniffled slightly, a grin breaking out across his face.

“Happy birthday, Stan.” Mike stepped back, and Stan turned to face him, pressing into his chest.

“You know, you’re the first person to tell me that today.” Mike tipped Stan’s chin up, and pressed a soft kiss to his nose.

“I am? I don’t think I’ll be the last, though.” Mike glanced over his shoulder, and Stan’s eyes followed to see the rest of his friends standing in the street, guilty smiles on their faces and a very neatly wrapped gift in Richie’s hands.

“We’re sorry for forgetting what day it was this morning… But, we all uh. Pitched in to get this for you. We’ve been holding onto it for months!” Richie stuck out the gift towards Stan, and Stan sniffled slightly.

“Thank you… I’m sorry for getting angry this morning. My parents didn’t remember either, and I just…” Stan looked down at his feet. “Thank you, guys. Really.” Taking the package out of Richie’s hands, Stan carefully untied the bow and opened the lid.

A brand new pair of binoculars with real gold accents was settled atop a moleskin journal- lined and everything. He couldn’t help the tears that pricked his eyes, and before he knew it, all his friends were hugging him, and he was crying, and they were crying, and Stan felt _loved._ So what if his friends had shitty memories? So what if his friends forgot what day his birthday was, exactly? They loved him, and they thought about him, and they cared about him, and they were his band of losers.

After breaking away from his friends, he reached absently for Mike’s hand, their fingers intertwining. Mike pressed a soft kiss to Stan’s cheek, and the lucky seven sat in a circle in Stan’s front yard, talking and laughing and reminiscing.

Stan felt like he was on top of the world.

It wasn’t until he was curled up in bed later that night that Stan remembered the envelope from Mike. Standing at his dresser, Stan opened the letter.

_Stanley-_

_Happy sweet sixteen, sunflower. I’m sorry I couldn’t see you earlier today, you know how my folks are with the farm. I hope you had a wonderful day, my love. Happy birthday._

Stan smiled warmly, pulling out two tickets to an exclusive lecture at the aviary. He had off-handedly mentioned wanting to go a few months back, but even Stan himself had forgotten about it by then. A bright blue sticky note with Mike’s handwriting on it.

_Next Saturday, me and you. I’ll bring you flowers, take you to dinner, everything. Happy sixteenth birthday, bird boy._

Stan smiled, tracing over the little heart that Mike had drawn at the bottom of the note, a blush creeping across his cheeks. If Stan squealed into his pillow like a middle schooler before he fell asleep, well… Who could blame him?


End file.
